


The Gift of Hive

by Eos_x



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alien Culture, Art, Christmas, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Family, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Humor, Illustrations, Kissing, M/M, Pets, Romance, Snuggly Christmas Jumpers, Traditions, Wraith (Stargate), Wraith folktales
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28212216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eos_x/pseuds/Eos_x
Summary: It's Christmas Eve with Atlantis is on Earth so most Lanteans have gone home for the holidays. John, Carson, and Rodney have an interesting chat with Todd the Wraith about Christmas traditions.Todd tells the folktale of the First Wraith and declares that Wraith do not give gifts, which suits John just fine, but Carson will not be swayed from sharing the spirit of Christmas with both the Colonel and the Commander...
Relationships: Carson Beckett/Rodney McKay, John Sheppard/Todd the Wraith
Comments: 21
Kudos: 23
Collections: Merry Wraithmas





	1. The Night Before...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JessieMckay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessieMckay/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Gift of the Iratus](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28537506) by [Eos_x](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eos_x/pseuds/Eos_x). 



> Merry Christmas, JessieMcKay! I hope you like your gift story! :D
> 
> Thank yous to:  
> * Salchat for a very speedy beta!  
> * Palatinedreams who provided an important name for Chapter 3…  
> *Bagheerita for organising the very first Merry Wraithmas gift exchange
> 
> Todd’s tale is based on the very real short story; “The Gift of the Magi” by O. Henry.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With egg-nog in hand, Carson is surprised to see Todd join them in the Mess Hall. The little group discusses human and wraith traditions.
> 
> ***Illustration - Carson, Rodney, John, and Todd sitting by the Christmas Tree.***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JessieMcKay wanted a humorous tale about the boys and what they might get Todd for Christmas that he could treasure forever...

ith Atlantis floating in San Franscisco Bay, most expedition members had taken the opportunity to visit with family over the holidays, leaving only a skeleton crew behind to watch over the cityship. Even Ronon had taken off with Major Lorne for Christmas, a fact that had everyone buzzing with gossip and money changing hands under Chuck’s careful supervision. 

“Enjoy the celebrations, Dr. Beckett,” came a quiet voice from behind him. Amongst all the commotion, no one noticed as Dr. Keller slipped by, hand in hand with Teyla. He grinned at the young doctor and she looked about ready to burst from happiness.

“Cheerio, ladies,” he called, waving them off and nudging Rodney in the side.

“Ow! What was that for? I’ll have you know that I ate a questionable pudding at lunch which is not helped by your pointy elbows, thank you very much!” 

“Ate a questionable amount of pudding, is more like it.”

“Hey!”

“Oh, come on now. I’m just teasin’ ye, Rodney.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” The scientist lifted his chin and looked mildly put-upon. “I don’t know how I put up with you sometimes.”

“My stash of chocolate helps, I’m sure,” he replied, sliding an arm around the man’s waist and leading him off to his latest hiding place. Ever since he started this thing with Rodney, he kept having to move his stash around. 

“Mmmmm, yes,” Rodney agreed. “Why, yes, it does.”

At first, Carson thought that he’d find the absence of the hustle and bustle of their regular routine to be quite peaceful. He had grown up surrounded by family, everyone jostling for their place and negotiating carefully constructed bathroom schedules. And while Atlantis was hardly well-populated, there was always something happening, marines on patrol or scientists working late, or even just the occasional lone figure roaming about. Once they’d been given clearance by the SGC, the central tower had gone from a hive of activity to an impeccably clean no-man’s land.

But the peace of the last few days was beginning to grow heavy, the remaining staff able to get through a whole shift without seeing one another at all. So Carson had contacted Mr. Woolsey with a non-negotiable list of necessities, commandeered the Mess Hall, and turned it into a cozy Christmas den. Despite his efforts, it still took considerable persuasion to get the group together for a Christmas Eve drink, but miracles had happened and here they all were.

The only notable absence was one suspiciously quiet wraith. Colonel Sheppard had finally been given the go-ahead to move Todd into his own quarters and he had access to a lab one floor down from the gateroom. With a bank of strictly controlled non-networked computers, the wraith spent most of his time tinkering away in approved sections of the database. 

Initially, and rather typically, Rodney had voiced his absolute refusal to let Todd near any of his precious projects. It had taken Carson days of convincing, but eventually, Rodney had caved and set him up with a couple of “lesser” tasks, figuring that the wraith couldn’t balls it up any worse than one of his minions. And, just as predictably, Carson now had to put up with hearing how brilliant Rodney was for setting the knowledgeable Wraith to work, especially since Todd had devised several scenarios that looked promising for getting them back to Pegasus.

Other than that, the ancient wraith kept mostly to himself.

When they’d first arrived on Earth, the SGC had swooped in and absconded with Todd, subjecting him to a lengthy grilling from the IOA and a rather invasive set of exams from the folks over at Area 51. The wraith had come back severely grumpy and refused to even speak to anyone. 

Now _that_ had been a tense few days. Not that Rodney had noticed. Carson had tracked down Sheppard who reckoned that Todd was just fed up with Earthers and that he’d be “back to threatening Rodney and flashing that shit-eating grin in no time”. 

But that had been weeks ago. The wraith just worked around the clock in his lab, barely even acknowledging anyone. 

Carson thought that Todd was simply lonely and didn’t know how to admit it out loud. He’d tried to invite the tall alien to join them for various dinners and movie nights, but he never showed. 

Which was why Carson almost fell out of his chair when said wraith appeared at the entrance to the Mess Hall, blinking slowly as if he, too, was unsure why he was there. His usual guard posted themselves at the door and studiously ignored the festivities they were missing out on. The small posse of leftover Lanteans watched as the wraith took in the alterations to the room; the heavy wreaths adorning each one of the decorative wall sconces, twinkling fairy lights hanging from just about everything, and the seven-foot tree dominating the corner and dropping pine needles all over the pile of presents. 

His vigilant yellow eyes came to a stop at the happily intoxicated band of merry cityship-dwellers. Their festive band had dwindled down to just a few, but they were making up for it with sheer noise and sing-alongs; although the spontaneous musical performances were mostly duets starring Carson and Rodney. They were comfortably jammed together on the sofa from Woolsey’s office, while the Colonel sprawled on one of the armchairs that had mysteriously appeared there that evening. Sheppard kept fiddling with his empty thigh holster, the strapping was frayed and he’d clearly been pulling at loose threads.

A low coffee table, also from who-knows-where, sat between them, laden with the remnants of Christmas goodies which pretty much boiled down to a large jug of eggnog.

As the wraith advanced through the sea of vacant tables and chairs, Carson couldn’t help but note how Sheppard slouched in his armchair a little more and tried to affect an air of cool indifference, as though he dealt with Todd all the time while a few eggnogs into his evening. He seemed to be counting the frothy bubbles in the dregs of his drink, as his leg bounced restlessly.

The wraith arrived at the table and Sheppard rolled his head back to look up at him. “Hey.”

“Greetings, Colonel Sheppard,” Todd said stiffly, standing awkwardly at the edge of their small party. He nodded to each of them in turn. “Doctor Beckett. Dr. McKay.”

“Commander,” Carson said, returning the wraith’s formality.

“Commander,” Rodney mimicked solemnly, nodding in return. 

“Geez, did we get zapped into a Dickensian alternate reality or something? Coulda sent me a memo.” Sheppard took another swig of frothy heaven. Although he’d never admit it out loud, not even under threat of torture, Carson knew how much the Colonel adored the holiday beverage, especially with an extra dash of Zelenka’s latest brew. Somehow, his mug was empty. Again. He thrust it out to Rodney. “Please, sir. Can I have some more?”

“Very clever, Colonel,” Rodney snarked as he leaned forward to pour him some, almost missing John’s mug altogether. “Hold it _still_.” 

“I _am_ , Rodney,” Sheppard countered, gripping the mug in two hands to be sure. 

Rodney closed one eye and aimed the bottle at the mug, this time clinking the neck against the mug. “Ha!”

“And how ‘bout some ‘nog for my buddy?” John mumbled, gesturing to the wraith to take the empty seat next to his. Carson stretched his leg under the table and kicked the chair out a bit. With some apprehension, Todd obliged and slid into the seat. Rodney plonked a full mug down in front of him, which Todd sniffed suspiciously. Realising that the whole table was staring at him expectantly, he huffed, the wraith equivalent of the human eye-roll, and took a sip, trying to conceal a grimace. 

Carson tried not to laugh which unfortunately resulted in a quiet snort.

“Whaddaya think?” Sheppard drawled. “Pretty good, eh, Tommander Codd? Wait.”

Carson chuckled quietly to himself, trying this time to stop his shoulders from noticeably shaking. 

“Sheppard, that’s _wrong_ , you idiot,” Rodney announced, rolling his eyes. “It’s Toddmander Comm.”

Carson gave up and burst into peals of laughter. “Tommander Codd? Toddmander Comm?! Oh, lads, that’s just precious!”

Throughout the exchange, Todd peered down his nose at them all. “It is altogether more potent than I was expecting, but at least it explains the deviations to your usual behaviour.”

“You’re so uptight, Todd,” Sheppard whined, holding the vowel sound in the wraith’s name for much longer than necessary. He straightened up in his chair and lowered his voice to a gravelly drone. “ _‘At least it explains the deviations to your usual behaviour’_. C’mon, lighten up, buddy. It’s Christmas Eve and it’s not like there’s anything else to do.”

“Ah, yes. Tomorrow is your homeworld celebration. Mr. Woolsey informed me of the gift exchanges and the endurance of the obligatory gathering of one’s hive… but he did not mention this ‘eggnog’ concoction.”

“That’s probably because we’re not really supposed to have it, Todd,” Carson explained. “With so few in the city, we are all technically on duty.”

“Technically, but not _really_. It’s not like the wraith are going to attack us while we’re on Earth…” The Colonel paused. “Well, not again anyway.”

“Hmmm.” The wraith looked thoughtful. “Speaking of hive, why are none of you with yours?” 

“Well, Rodney’s avoiding his sister’s Tofurkey.”

Rodney shuddered beside him. Carson rubbed his knee in and got a shy smile for his trouble.

“And Beckett volunteered to stay behind as the doc on duty.”

At that, Rodney grinned and Carson felt himself blush. “Well, y’know, since Rodney’s here and all, I just didnae want him to be alone on Christmas.”

“I see.” Todd turned to face Sheppard and leaned forward, looming in the Colonel’s personal space. Unsurprisingly, Sheppard didn’t shrink away. “You did not explain _your_ presence here, Sheppard”

Hearing the way the wraith purred their friend’s name, Carson aimed a knowing look at Rodney, who just stared back blankly. Carson jerked his head in the wraith’s direction. Rodney just frowned and said, “What?” 

“Crikey, Rodney, you really don’t pay attention now do ye?” 

On the other side of the table, Sheppard was staring back at Todd. “Um, well, y’know.”

“No, Sheppard. I do _not_ know.” The wraith suddenly seemed to be all glowing eyes and flashing teeth. 

Sheppard picked at another loose thread, pulling it along the length of the strap and then yanking it free. “Well, I don’t, y’know… have a hive.”

Todd looked momentarily stricken. “You have no hive? I do not understand. We are on your homeworld.”

“Yeah, well, buddy, looks like we’re both Nigel-no-mates,” Sheppard joked, leaning both elbows on the arm of the chair and fiddled with his mug. Seeing the wraith’s confusion, he added, “well, your people would probably call us Harry-no-hives.”

Sheppard’s balance was clearly off and he tipped forward over the arm of his chair, his forehead coming to a stop pressed against Todd’s shoulder. Carson watched as he tried to focus his eyes on the grain of the leather coat and almost went cross-eyed. It seemed to take a good while for his eyes to track up Todd’s arm, across one broad shoulder, skip over the wraith’s jawline and come to a stop at eyes that looked far too amused at John’s expense. 

“John Sheppard…” Those gilded eyes became suddenly serious. Now it was Carson’s turn to lean in, not wanting to miss what the wraith said next. “If you will allow it… I would–”

“Crap!”

Carson never got to find out the end of that sentence because Rodney, damn him, had managed to tip over what was left of the egg nog. Half watching the pair across the table, he used some paper napkins to mop up the sticky liquid. It was impossible to hear what was being said while Rodney complained about the spatter on his trousers.

“–and I just can’t _believe_ I got eggnog on my favourite BDUs! For Christ’s sake!”

Sheppard glanced over at them, took in the sight of the empty jug, and quipped, “Why’s the ‘nog gone?”

“Oh, hardy-har-har.” Rodney put his hands on his hips and jutted out his chin. Carson couldn’t possibly be annoyed at the man when he insisted on looking so adorable. “Stop looking so pleased with yourself and make yourself, well… useful!”

“The doc has it covered, Rodney.” Sheppard sank lower into his armchair. “Maybe Santa will bring you some new pants?”

“Yeah, right.” Rodney huffed and plopped down on the couch. “Santa Landry is way too cheap to spring for the good BDUs.” 

Discarding the sopping mess into the bin, Carson contemplated the wraith. “Do the wraith give gifts then, Todd? Ye know, to mark special occasions or show their gratitude or celebrate something?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Carson found the notion of a life without gift-giving to be a rather sad affair.

“Hey.” Rodney gently nudged his side. “It’s not like they’d be easy to shop for anyway. I mean, what would you even get for a wraith?”

Sheppard tilted his head back thoughtfully. “Todd. What would a wraith want for Christmas?”

Carson thought he saw a flash of hunger cross the wraith’s features as he gazed down at the Colonel. The silence went on a little long and he found himself blurting out, “vampire teeth!”

Three perplexed faces stared at him. “Ye know. Vampire teeth. And a cloak… fake blood? Bleh, I’m a scary vampire! Bleh, bleh, bleh! No? For a laugh, you bloody pillocks!” 

“Right.” Sheppard drew the word out into one long doubtful drawl. “Vampire teeth.”

The wraith cocked his head. “Why exactly would this be humorous?” 

Carson just shook his head and concluded that Todd clearly had no appreciation for good Earth humour. 

“Oh, oh, I’ve got one!” Rodney bounced next to him. “Michael Jackson’s rhinestone glove! To bedazzle that feeding hand of yours. Hah! Nailed it. Best wraith present ever.”

Rodney beamed at him and Carson couldn’t help but grin back. “Of course it is.”

“Who is this human you speak of?” Todd still looked utterly bewildered. “Why did he only possess one rhinestone glove?”

“Never mind that.” Sheppard waved off Todd’s questions and appraised the wraith beside him. He quirked an eyebrow. “I ‘spose I could always get you a gift certificate to a nail spa or something. Or maybe just a really good hairbrush.”

Rather than continued confusion or even a frustrated snarl, Carson was surprised to see the wraith throw his head back and laugh. Beside him, Sheppard joined in with what started as a chuckle but quickly escalated into a rather unattractive braying punctuated by the occasional snort. Todd only got louder, his roaring guffaw drawing his guards in from the corridor so Carson had to shoo them back out again. 

When the laughter died down, Todd shook his head at Sheppard. “You always know just what to say to me, John Sheppard.”

“Eh. It’s a gift,” came the cocky reply. “So. What would you get me?”

“For you, John Sheppard?” Todd grinned. “Perhaps an adequate holster for your weapon. That one is disgraceful.”

“Hey!” John maneuvered his jacket to cover the holster. “I just haven’t gotten around to replacing it yet. And hang on a minute. What about the Gift of Life?”

“Life is Gifted as it is needed, Sheppard. It is not ceremonial.”

“Well, why don’t Wraith give each other… other stuff? I woulda thought that the queens at least got something every century or so.”

Todd frowned. “It is… an old ideal, based on an even older tale. It is one of the few beliefs that we still hold to.”

“Oh, yeah? Want to tell it?”

“The histories?” Todd looked at each of them. When those piercing yellow eyes finally fell on Carson, he felt totally exposed, as though the wraith could see everything. At the decisive nod of approval, Carson relaxed.

“Does it start with Once Upon a Time?” Rodney scoffed. Carson elbowed him in the ribs. “Hey! Um, ow!”

“Hush, love.” Carson put his arm around those broad shoulders. 

“Yeah,” Sheppard agreed, smirking. “Hush, Rodney.”

“But I–!”

“Yes, hush now, Dr. McKay,” Todd commanded, “so that I may begin.”

  
  



	2. The Gift of the Iratus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John, Carson, and Rodney settle in to listen to Todd tell the folktale of the First Wraith...
> 
> ***Illustrations - Who were the First Wraith and what were they celebrating?***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ever since I read 'Wraithling Tales' by Perryvic, I've wanted to write a little wraith folktale. I went hunting for Christmas tales and found 'The Gift of the Magi' by O. Henry. It has a neat style to it so I thought it would make a perfect folktale if adapted for the Wraith. 
> 
> Let's see what Carson, Rodney, and John think of it...

odd contemplated the small audience before him. Across the low table, the bright-eyed biological scientist sat with his brazen physicist who, thanks to his exhaustion was, for once, pleasantly soundless. They made for an odd pairing; one which he would not have anticipated being in any way successful but the lilting voice of the former seemed to temper the latter, resulting in an overall acceptable match. 

At his side, Sheppard leaned against the arm of his chair, waiting patiently for his tale to begin. The wraith was surprised at the interest his human brother had for his people, something he had not expressed before this moment. In spite of the man’s revelation that he had no hive on this homeworld and he clearly desired to return to Pegasus, it was also apparent that he was far more relaxed here in this holiday period without the burden of command.

It was yet another curious thing that he thought they had in common but actually did not. The Commander only truly felt at home when directing his hives and officers. But Sheppard, despite the ease at which his other humans fell in behind him, seemed to take joy from casting off his rank and settling in beside his people.

Perhaps he too enjoyed settling beside Sheppard… for no one else would he grant the telling of a tale so precious to his people. Especially for an audience of humans, beings who could not appreciate all that was communicated between Wraith when stories were relayed. But Sheppard’s uncommon eyes - the rich umber, wise sage, and that ever-vexing bronze - were glazed with an undeniable warmth. 

He would have liked to think it indicated a growing attachment between them but was more likely a product of the overly saccharine festive beverage that invaded his sensory pits and left a cloying milky film on his tongue. He pushed his mug further away across the table, eager to rid himself of the sickly sweet odor.

And yet… it took considerable resolve not to reach over and wipe the smudge of froth from Sheppard’s upper lip. The wraith considered the possibility that the creamy liquid would taste quite different if liberated from that spot. He always felt provoked into frivolous behaviour when in this one’s company.

Sheppard cleared his throat and fidgeted with his mug. “Anytime now, Todd.”

Ah. It would seem he had been staring again. “Very well, Sheppard.”

**********

**The Gift of the Iratus**

n a time long ago, before the era of Hives, there lived the First Wraith; one Queen and one Warrior. Exiled by humans and struggling with their Hunger, they eked out a modest existence on the very fringes of Life. In the hills above the nearest village was an abandoned Iratus cave, too small really to hold the First Queen, but the settlement was full of humans and was not safe. T _here is little more to say about it._

After the Queen had fallen pregnant with the First Youngling, her Warrior noted how easily she drew him to her side as she grew heavier with their child. He gave her a suitable Naming for she was his Sun; 

This queen is _Solis_. 

When she was so swollen that her time was drawing near, the Warrior found he could not bear to leave her side at all. Solis then Named him after the path of the Moon; 

This warrior is _Lunar_. 

And so, over on the wall of their cave were their Namings recorded: “Solis-constella-Lunar.” 

In this particular tale, which is one of many we tell about the First Wraith, Solis had left her Warrior to journey up the mountain through the winter snow to sit with the Iratus. Lunar was alone and in despair, for he had nothing to gift his queen upon her return and nothing of value to trade for one.

And the next day would be _Nativitas_.

Lunar’s mind was burdened by this as he stood by the mouth of their cave. He must somehow acquire a gift for Solis. _His_ Solis. His queen. He had spent many happy hours planning something nice for her. Something good enough to mark the birthing of their child. Something almost worth the honor of belonging to Solis.

But everything had been much harder than he had expected. _It always happens like that._

Suddenly he turned from the entrance and stood before his niche in the wall. His eyes were glowing brightly, but his face had lost its color. Quickly he pulled out the only item on the modest shelf, unwrapped the cloth, and let it rest in there his hand. 

The First Wraith were very proud of two things which they owned. One thing was Lunar’s silver dagger, glinting up at him from its place in his hand. Made of pure naquadah and inlaid with amber crystal, they knew not its origins but its worth was indisputable. Lunar knew that no one in the galaxy had anything quite so valuable. He always kept it tucked up inside the cloth, for it was too precious to take hunting.

The other thing that brought them great pride was his queen’s hair. It reached down her waist; a copper waterfall that almost lit up the darkness of their tiny home. Lunar braided those long russet strands every morning and wound them around his fingers in the evening as they curled up together in their nest. The Warrior knew his queen’s hair was far more beautiful than any jewels or gifts. 

So now Lunar’s dagger sat before him, the crystals winking in promise. Without delay, he pulled on his old brown boots. He put on his old brown cloak and raised the hood to conceal his true nature. 

With the bright light of hope in his eyes, he set off out the door, making a quick journey of the long path through dense forest. The pungent scent of the trees clung to him as he exited the woods and arrived at the residence of the human trader, just outside of the main settlement. 

Vir, a trader, answered the Warrior’s knocking. The human was altogether too small and too twitchy, as he peered up at him with wide round pupils.

“I wish to trade this,” said Lunar, speaking from under his hood as he unwrapped the cloth, careful to conceal his feeding hand. 

“I will take your dagger,” said Vir, dark pupils growing wider and rounder, and he gestured for the Warrior to follow. The heat from the fireplace pressed in on the wraith, the soft light dancing across the many wares scattered about the room.

“This,” Lunar stated, indicating the item he desired. 

It was a comb, very simply made. Because it was so plain and simple, you knew that it was very valuable. _All good things are like this._

As soon as he laid eyes on it, he knew that he must have it for his queen. Its value was in its rich and pure material; carved from Iratus shell, black with pale greens and purples that danced across its surface. It was like her; beautiful and rare. 

Vir took the dagger from the Warrior’s offhand to admire the craftsmanship. Without looking up, he muttered a vague “yes”.

“Give it to me quick,” said Lunar, before he could change his mind. He took his payment and wrapped it in the old piece of cloth, striding from the oppressive heat and out into the chill of fresh air. 

When Lunar arrived home, he began to think more reasonably. He started to question what he had done. Duty and devotion, when added together, can lead a wraith to make great sacrifices. _It is never easy to do this, dear brothers— never easy._

At dusk, Lunar moved to sit nervously at the entrance to their cave, the comb resting in his palm. He sensed Solis when her mind called out from further up the mountain and his face lost colour for a moment. And so he murmured, “Please Gods, make her think I’m still worthy.” 

His solitude evaporated as Solis stepped into view. Her face looked tired, half-hidden in the shadows of her hooded cloak. She was as quiet as an Iratus when it stalked its prey. _Always be wary of this._

“Solis, my Queen,” he intoned, kneeling before her. “I have this gift for you to mark the First _Nativitas_.” 

He held out his offhand, the exquisite shell comb glistening in the last light of the day. Her eyes looked strangely at Lunar, and there was an expression in them that he could not understand. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor anything he had been ready for. It filled him with fear. 

“But how…?” she asked and he thought of his beloved dagger and then she knew.

“Yes,” Lunar admitted, bowing his head.

“You traded away your dagger for… this,” Solis said slowly, lifting the comb and turning it over in her hands, bittersweet thoughts playing in her mind. 

From inside her cloak, Solis produced a gift for her Warrior. “If you’ll open this, you may know what I felt when I saw your gift for me.” 

Shaking fingers unwrapped the plain cloth. Then there was a cry of joy; and then a change to sorrow. For there within the cloth lay a handsome grey sheath for his dagger made from the webbing of the Iratus; unbreakable and glistening with iridescent greens and purples. It was a rare gift indeed. 

And now it was his, but his dagger was gone. 

He held it to his chest, and at last was able to look up and ask: “But why were you sorry to see your comb? You did not yet know that I had traded my dagger.” 

Solis looked down and smiled sadly, removing her hood. 

Lunar leapt to his feet in shock. “My queen, you… you cut off your hair? Why?”

“Lunar,” said she. With the Iratus shell comb still clutched in her offhand, graceful fingers skimmed over the copper prickles - all that was left of her glorious hair. “My hair now lines the nest of the Iratus queen. It was a small price to pay for a gift worthy of the First Warrior. _My_ warrior.” 

“Only _you_ , my queen, are worthy of all things of great value; combs and daggers alike.” Lunar was looking at his gift, stricken. For what good was an opulent comb or an armoured sheath? Without copper tresses or jeweled blade they were of absolutely no use, no value at all. 

“Worry not, my Lunar. It is the night before _Nativitas_.” She reached out and took his hand, placing it on her swollen belly. “And we will soon have something infinitely more precious.”

As they stood there in the falling snow, with comb and sheath and Youngling between them, the First Wraith understood - they _knew_.

And here I have told you the story of the First Wraith who each traded away the most valuable thing they owned in order to acquire a gift for the other. But let me speak the last word to the wise of these days: 

Above even the Wraith, it is _they_ who are the wise ones.

The Iratus, as you know, are simple creatures—wonderfully simple— who do not offer gifts on the eve of their Hatchings for they know this: while two can become a strongly bonded pair, the birthing of a first child creates the greatest gift of all. 

They are the _Iratus_ and they give the gift of _Hive_.

**********

It took a moment for the Commander to pull himself back from the oldest of wraith tales and return his mind to the present. It pleased him to see the doctors leaning together, their busy minds slowed with honeyed thoughts of each other. 

Dr. Beckett’s eyes glistened with tears. “It was… it was so… och, Todd, that was just beautiful.”

The wraith nodded. “It is a favourite among Wraith.”

“Oh, come here you big baby.” Rodney came at him with a napkin in hand, dabbing a little too thoroughly at his eyes before Carson managed to wrestle it from him. 

Carson blew his nose. “Don’t try to tell me ya didnae like the story, Rodney.”

Rodney’s eyes flicked to Todd for a moment before finding something apparently fascinating about the ceiling. “Well, it was alright. At least it didn’t end with ‘and they all lived happily ever after’.”

Todd couldn’t discern anything out of the ordinary above them. “Most Wraith tales end with lessons, usually concerning Wraith and duty to their Queens. This one… it is about Hive.”

“Hive, eh?” The wistful voice of Sheppard drew his attention to the man at his side. “Must be nice…”

“Hmmm?” he prompted gently, unused to this softer side of his brother, making him weary of scaring it away.

But rather than reply, Sheppard rose from his chair, a little unsteady on his feet. The movement roused the doctors; one insisting on tidying away the mess while the other asserted that was what the lesser minds were paid for.

Sheppard tried to squeeze between their armchairs and almost toppled into his lap. The Commander intercepted what would have been an embarrassing landing and got to his feet, righting Sheppard in the process. 

Hands still on the man’s waist, he heard a pointed cough and immediately let go.

"I think the lad might need a, er, hand getting back to his quarters.” Dr. Beckett addressed his suggestion to the mess on the table, which he was organising into tidy piles. 

“Oh, I can do it,” Rodney declared. “I have the misfortune of living down the hall from Colonel Can’t-Hold-His-Nog.”

“Y’know, I’m quite capable of walking m’self, thanks.” Despite his assertions, Sheppard still hung off the shoulder plating of the wraith’s battlecoat. Todd placed his hand on the man’s lower back. To steady him, of course.

Rodney began to make his way over only to bump the table and send a stack of paper plates and napkins tumbling to the floor. He spun around and glared. “For crying out loud, Carson! Just leave it would you? The minions need _something_ to do. They like it. Trust me; makes ‘em feel useful.”

While the doctors debated the merits of continued cleaning versus the necessity for sleep, the Commander took the opportunity to turn to Sheppard and gesture toward the door. He sighed inwardly at the sight of his guards awaiting him at the threshold but was buoyed by the sight of Sheppard nodding his assent and leading them toward the door. 

Upon reaching the officers, Sheppard surprised him once again. “Dismissed soldiers. I’ve got it from here.”

Uncertain looks were exchanged between the human drones and the Commander was certain that they would insist on accompanying them back to the assigned sleeping pods. 

Instead, they gave half-hearted salutes and marched off down the corridor. He turned to his companion. “After you, Sheppard.”

“Wow. What a gentleman.”

They made the journey in silence, the Colonel leading them to Todd’s quarters instead. “Sheppard… Dr. Beckett suggested that _I_ should escort _you–_ ”

“Yeah, yeah, I know what he was up to.” Sheppard may have known but the Commander decidedly did not. “Look, I’m not gonna let you drop me off like some idiot and then let you roam around the city unguarded. So. Your room.”

It was Sheppard’s turn to gesture but the wraith stood there watching him for a moment. The thought of his brother being without hive, especially when surrounded by others of his own kind, had left the wraith mulling over his own untethered status. “Colonel…”

The man gave up signaling for him to cross the threshold and chose to lean against its frame. “Todd?”

The wraith wasn’t really sure what it was that he wanted to say. He stepped closer and tried again. “Sheppard.” 

“Todd.”

It was difficult to summon the right words with those unusual eyes staring at him. Gone was the churlish insouciance and the witty barbs. In their place was an openness, a vulnerability that made the wraith want to _protect_ and _care for_ and _claim_ this human. 

Instead, he reached out and brushed his thumb across Sheppard’s upper lip. He left his hand hovering there for a moment and watched as Sheppard looked at the flecks of foam and then back up at him. Todd took another step, leaning in until their foreheads touched, losing himself in the alien roundness of John’s pupils.

“Sheppard,” he whispered. “If you would allow it, I would very much like to–”

The Lantean’s earpiece erupted in static with a muffled request, startling them both and shattering the moment.

“I gotta go,” Sheppard blurted out, almost stumbling in his haste to take a few steps back. He whirled around and managed to avoid bumping into the wall. He called over his shoulder as he raced away. “Uh, g’night, Todd. Sweet dreams and all that.” 

Sheppard loped off down the hall, clearly forgetting to secure the Commander into his room for the night. 

The wraith watched the ambling figure disappear around a bend in the hall. He had never seen the man so flustered; not when negotiating across the Lantean conference table, or when they plummeted toward certain death in that disintegrating hive. And not even when facing torture at _his own hand_ down in that filthy Genii bunker. 

Damn those incompetent fools in the gate room! He bared his teeth in frustration. The stickiness on his thumb drew his attention and his snarl softened into a slow smile. An unbidden thrumming emanating from his throat. 

The wraith licked the froth from his thumb and whispered into the darkness. “Sweetest of dreamings to you too, John Sheppard.”

  
  



	3. ...Christmas!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John finds himself the recipient of far more than he expected on Christmas morning…
> 
> ***Illustrations - What did Carson get Rodney for Christmas? And what about John and Todd? How will John celebrate Christmas with Todd?***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray! It's Christmas! XD
> 
> This chapter was heaps of fun to write so I hope it's heaps of fun to read!

erry Christmas, Sheppard!!”

John’s earpiece may have been all the way over on his desk, but it still managed to trumpet McKay’s shrill excitement into his over-sensitive brain. Why did he have so much egg-nog? 

“Sheppard? Sheppard! Get up! Get up, get up, get up!”

Damn that man and his ability to drink too much and wake up the next day just as hyper and loud and _Rodney_ as ever. 

Stumbling to his desk, he jammed the comm into his ear and he tried a whispered plea. “McKay. Shut. Up.”

“Morning sunshine,” the scientist barreled on. “I suggest you get to the Mess lickety-split to see all the presents!”

He distinctly remembered everyone agreeing not to do the whole gift exchanging thing. “Whaddaya mean ‘presents’?” 

“Yes, Colonel Grinch. Those of us with even a modicum of Christmas spirit are exchanging gifts and they’re fantastic. Especially mine. Mine are unquestionably the best.”

 _Right._ The thought of everyone staring at him while he unwrapped something and feigned enthusiasm made him want to wrap himself up, post himself back to Pegasus and deliver himself to the nearest hive. 

_Oh, great_. Now he was thinking about last night; listening to Todd’s deep dual-toned voice as he told his story, feeling all warm and dozy from the egg-nog… the wraith’s hand on his back as they strolled down the halls… standing outside Todd’s room, looking at the foam on the wraith’s thumb and fighting the urge to--

“Sheppard! Are you even listening to me? Are you coming? Are you hurrying?”

John grunted his compliance and trudged into the bathroom, his tongue all gummy against the roof of his mouth thanks to that traitorous egg-nog.

“You know, Colonel, if you don’t hurry up, it’s not like I’ll save you any coffee.” 

John locked eyes with his alarmed reflection before double-timing his teeth-brushing, clothes-changing, boot-finding, and high-tailing it out the door. 

“Oh, fu--!” Which is why he didn’t see the parcel on the floor and promptly tripped over said parcel. “What the hell?!”

“Ah, I imagine you found your package.” _Smug bastard._

“We said no gifts!” He eye-balled the present from his spot on the hallway floor.

“Actually, Sheppard, _you_ said no gifts. Anyway, you have Carson to thank for that. I, for one, have no desire to waste perfectly chosen presents on ungrateful Colonels. McKay out” 

At least Beckett had excused him from the horrors of a public unwrapping. Although… 

With the notable lack of an audience, John launched himself at the mysterious gift. After wrestling with the intricately tied ribbons, he used his teeth to tear the gold binding and then ripped off the silver paper. Into his lap tumbled a mass of luxuriously soft black wool. 

A black jumper? Not just a black jumper. A black _Christmas_ jumper. A black Christmas jumper knitted by _Mrs. Beckett_. A black Christmas jumper knitted by Mrs. Beckett _with borders of tiny ‘point of origin’ glyphs and a puddle jumper in the middle_. 

A ‘jumper on a jumper! John pulled the jersey over his head and grinned. _So snuggly._ He balled up the offensively shiny wrapping paper and ribbon, hurled it into his room, and darted off in the direction of hot coffee. 

John skidded to a stop when he reached the Mess hall, taking in the corny Christmas music and the small crowd of early-risers. It seemed that he wasn’t the only recipient of a Mrs. Beckett Christmas jumper; amongst the remaining expedition members, he could see that Carson and Rodney were wearing matching blue jerseys (he was _so_ going to mention _that_ later), and Mr. Woolsey looked pretty good in his dark red one. 

But it was the sight of Todd removing his jacket that had him standing there in the doorway like a stunned mullet. Todd handed his coat off to a baffled marine, his distractingly defined arm muscles tense with reluctance to let go. John forced his feet to move and he sauntered towards the food table. He’d always wondered what the Wraith wore under their coats. Todd’s sleeveless black tunic, pulled tight across his chest, was tucked into black leather pants. Leather pants that laced up at the front. _Dear god._ John’s hip banged sharply against the catering table; he’d made it to the coffee. 

John watched as Carson passed Todd an already-opened package wrapped in a distinctly familiar silver paper and gold ribbon. _No, surely not…_

 _...okay, it definitely was._ Another jumper. Another black Christmas jumper knitted by Mrs. Beckettbut this time with borders of tiny… _yep, those were definitely iratus bugs,_ and a wraith dart in the middle. John really needed to have a word with Beckett about the content of his chats with his mother. 

“It’s tradition.” Carson beamed proudly. “Every year me mother knits a Christmas jumper for every member of the family. Since we’re actually in the same galaxy this year, I put in an order for a few extras.”

“This is a tradition of your hive?” Todd looked uncertain. “One that requires me to wear this… garment.”

John looked from an eager Carson to a doubtful Todd. Beside them, Rodney was fussing with his jersey and twitching uncomfortably. _Way to sell it, McKay._ He poured himself a mug of coffee and made his way through the clusters of people over to the Christmas tree. 

“Colonel Sheppard.” Even the wraith seemed chipper this morning. As Todd lifted the jumper over his head, the black tunic rode up to reveal just a peek of pale green skin. Toned, tattooed green skin, to be exact. “Sheppard?”

John startled, spilled his boiling hot coffee, and fought the urge to yelp. Switching the mug to his free hand, he licked the coffee from his wrist. When he noticed Todd staring at him, he paused with his thumb in his mouth. “Todd?”

Todd opened and closed his mouth, then cleared his throat but still failed to deliver one of his typical haughty replies. Sheppard studied the wraith, switching his thumb for his forefinger to suck on the last of the spilled coffee. The wraith clenched his hands into fists then splayed his fingers, a gesture John had noticed he only did when agitated. _Interesting_. 

The wraith turned stiffly and addressed his guard through gritted teeth. “My coat?” The young officer thrust the jacket at the wraith before beating a hasty retreat. 

Todd put his coat on and went to fasten it when Carson interjected. “Now, don’t go covering up me mum’s work right away. The jumper looks great!”

“Yeah, just dashing,” Rodney snarked over his shoulder while tugging on the collar of his jumper. “Total ‘Wraith chic’ right there.” 

“Well, what with you two doing such a fetching Tweedledum and Tweedledee impression,” John took a satisfying gulp of coffee, “Wraith’ll be lining up in their hives, desperate for a Mrs. Beckett original.”

Carson pinned John with a withering look. “Bit of a case of the pot calling the kettle black, Sheppard.” 

Behind Carson, Rodney muttered, “and speaking of black...”

John looked over at Todd, while the wraith took in the sight of John’s matching black jumper. John rubbed the back of his neck. Todd tucked a stray messy lock of hair behind his ear. When the silence became uncomfortable, John was grateful for a distraction in the form of McKay’s undulating blue jersey. 

“Uh, Rodney,” he gestured with his mug. John reached for his firearm only to realise it was back in his quarters. _Dammit!_ “Your jumper’s moving. Do I need to call Ripley?”

Rodney, now doing a strange jerky wriggle, scowled back at him. “No, Colonel, I am not playing host to a baby Xenomorph. It’s-- just-- my-- present-- from-- Carson.”

“Huh?”

To answer his question, Rodney squawked and the lump at his waist jumped suddenly, ending up on his chest. The lump crept upwards as Rodney squirmed and, of all things, giggled. The lump hissed and an orange ball of fluff popped out of Rodney’s collar. 

“A cat?”

“Very observant, Colonel.”

“You have a cat.”

“Yes.”

“In Atlantis.”

“Right again.” Rodney was beaming down at the fluffy orange lump, who responded by taking a swipe at his chin. “Aw, who’s a feisty little princess? You are! That’s right.”

Carson added to the physicist’s ridiculous cooing by crooning to the cat in Gaelic. The fluff-lump climbed out of her woolly nest and slinked down into Rodney’s waiting hands. “Colonel Sheppard, meet Princess. Princess, meet the man who correctly identified that you are a cat. Yes, he’s in charge of defending the entire city and, yes, his hair is ridiculous.”

“ _Princess_? Really Rodney?”

“She can’t help what she _is_ , Sheppard. She’s my present from Carson.”

The doctor leaned in for a quick kiss. “Isn’t she just the cutest wee thing?”

“Um.” John hesitated. “I guess I’m more of a dog person?”

His honesty got him a look of absolute shock (Carson) and twin scowling expressions (Rodney and Princess). 

“Well, I never, Colonel!” Beckett cupped his hands over her fuzzy ears. Princess turned her little head and bit the doctor’s finger. “Ouch! My, she’s a scrappy one. Oh, yes she is! Oh, yes she is!”

John peered down at Princess. The angelic-looking kitten let out a warning purr and lowered her head for dramatic effect before leaping at him, latching her claws into his jumper. And the skin underneath. “Yow! Rodney! What the hell!”

Rodney and Carson fussed and praised and dithered about trying to detach Princess from his knitted puddlejumper, while John was careful to keep his hands right out of it. Meanwhile, the kitten growled and dug her claws further in. How this petite thing had rendered three grown men utterly useless was completely beyond John.

A loud warning snarl rumbled from John’s right; causing the three men and one angry furball to freeze. John heard several marines closing in, weapons raised and safeties clicked off. “Hold your fire!”

Todd’s face appeared at his shoulder, teeth bared and eyes flashing. The kitten, _god help her_ , screeched in Todd’s face, baring her tiny sharp teeth. Todd’s snarl turned into a low threatening hiss as he loomed closer. Princess raised her chin and yowled in obvious offense. The wraith dipped his head and offered his open palm; his offhand, John noted with relief. 

Princess bounced into Todd’s large green hand and stretched up to butt her head against his chin. Todd did that weird thrumming thing in the back of his throat, the one that sounded an awful lot like--

“Purring!” Carson announced. Beckett and McKay muscled in and John found himself wedged between Rodney and Todd. Princess continued smoodging Todd’s chin while he scratched behind her ears with one sharp black fingernail. “Now would ye listen to that! Princess is purring for Todd!”

“What?!” Rodney puts his hands on his hips. “She hasn’t even purred for me yet and she’s _my_ present!” 

John looked on in wonder as Todd’s thrumming changed in pitch and Princess responded with an indifferent meow and a yawn. She padded around in a circle then curled up in the wraith’s large hand. 

Todd straightened to his full height and peered down his nose at them all. “I would suggest, Dr. McKay, that you learn how to control this feline of yours. We cannot have her assaulting Colonel Sheppard.”

Rodney tore himself away from the sleepy kitten, looking from Todd to John and back to Todd again. Realisation dawned on his face, and John just knew the man was about to blurt out something he’d rather the rest of the expedition didn’t hear.

“Uh, Rodney--”

“Here we go, dear.” Carson scooped the kitten from Todd’s hand and thrust her at Rodney. “Thank you, Todd, for - er - defending the Colonel from Princess’s little ambush there. Why don’t we take her for a wander ‘round outside, eh, Rodney?”

“Um, what? But--” Rodney tried gesturing at Todd and John with Princess, who opened one eye and curled her lip back to reveal one teensy fang, a rather apt imitation of the wraith himself. “Woah, yes, um, okay. Outside. Right.”

Carson hustled Rodney across the Mess Hall, the physicist shielding her from prying eyes and petting hands as they went. 

Todd turned to John and flashed his trademark wolfish grin. “Perhaps some fresh air is in order after your… ordeal.”

“Yeah, right. Wouldn’t want to faint from the terror of the vicious attack.” John rolled his eyes and ditched his empty mug before following the wraith out onto the balcony where they were hit with a blast of freezing wind. _Thank goodness for snuggly jumpers._

Someone, John’s money was on Carson, had decorated out here too. Lights had been hung from the columns and rafters, casting Todd’s white hair in twinkling reds, blues, greens, and golds. It was peaceful outside, away from the Christmas cheer and corny music. Todd inhaled deeply, taking in the sea breeze while closing his eyes. 

Staring out at the horizon, and determinedly _not_ looking at the happy wraith, John sighed. “Look. I didn’t get you a present or anything.”

Eyes still closed, and face turned to the sun, Todd huffed. “Wraith do not give gifts, Sheppard.”

“Yeah, I know. But Beckett gave you a jumper and you told us that story which is kinda like a gift...”

“That is not what I wished to give you, Sheppard.” Todd turned and gazed down at him. 

“You, ah, gotta new holster hidden away in that coat there, buddy?” John swallowed. Why’d he leave his coffee inside? He didn’t know what to do with his hands and Todd was still staring.

“No, I do not.” Todd stepped right into John’s personal space. He leaned close to his ear and husked, “But if you would allow it, I would very much like to…”

Here it was. That moment from last night when John just _knew_ Todd was going to kiss him right before they were interrupted. His heart was beating out of his chest as he tilted his face up, hoping there’d be no interruptions this time…

“...to become part of your hive.” _What?_ He looked at Todd in confusion. The wraith cocked his head and tried again. “We are already brothers, thanks to the Gift of Life, so I would very much like for us to become _hive_ , Sheppard.”

Hive? _Hive?_ So he _doesn’t_ want to-- _oh_. John took a step back. Todd’s eyes widened with surprise and, wait - was that… hurt? The wraith stiffened, face shuttering to a look of bland stoicism. “I see I have misunderstood our… brotherhood. My apologies.”

And then Todd was turning away and _leaving_. 

John was assailed by thoughts of family and brothers and _hive_. He pictured iridescent Iratus combs and sheaths made from pearled webbing, which made him think about unbreakable hairbrushes and new thigh holsters. He weighed up every loaded moment, every hungry look, all that damned suggestive banter, and all those flirtatious threats. 

Before he could chicken out, he reached out and grabbed Todd’s arm, the wraith allowing himself to be spun around until they were left staring at each other. “Shep--?”

John gripped the wraith’s jacket, went up on his toes, and brought their mouths together in a hasty kiss. It lasted for only the briefest of moments; barely enough time to breathe in the heady scents of musky mint and Christmas trees, and to taste, of all things, the sweetness of egg-nog. 

He let go of Todd’s jacket, uncertain all over again and desperately hoping that the wraith had blocked their kiss from view from the revelers inside. Speaking of the wraith, he just stood there staring at John and saying nothing. John worried that he’d read this whole thing completely wrong. Did Todd really just mean _brothers_ and anything more was just in his head? _Oh,_ _crap_ _._ This was bad. He’d really stuffed up this time. “Look, Todd--”

At the sound of his human name, the wraith sprung into action, hands grabbing John’s waist and walking them both around the corner, practically lifting John off his feet in his rush to get out of sight of the Mess Hall windows. When John’s back hit the railing, he got a fleeting glimpse of Todd’s pupils which had blown wide, leaving only thin lines of gold around the edges, and then Todd leaned in and their lips met and-- 

_Oh, wow._

Where their first kiss was chaste and sweet, this one was hot and delicious; all lips and tongues and teeth. The wraith threw himself into their kiss until John was dizzy from taste and smell and twinkling lights dancing behind his closed eyes. John slid his hands inside Todd’s jacket and up his back to cling onto the wraith’s shoulders, silky leather covering his hands and soft wool under his palms.

Cool fingers worked themselves under his jumper and shirt, gripping his hips and hoisting him up to sit on the rail, making them level in height. John hooked his heels around Todd’s legs and drew him closer. He sucked the wraith’s lower lip into his mouth and was rewarded with a low rumbling moan. Todd ran his sharp teeth along John’s tongue and pressed his claws into his back, making him tremble with want.

An icy gust of wind whipped at Todd’s hair and shot up the back of John’s jersey. He shivered, pulling away and Todd stilled, their breath coming in little panting clouds on the cold air. There was a blur of movement and John found himself draped in Todd’s coat, the tails dangling out over the East pier below them. He grinned and slipped his arms into the sleeves before wrapping himself around the wraith. 

John leaned his forehead against Todd’s who then took John’s hand, guiding it to his body to splay their fingers on his chest. John could feel Todd’s thrumming as it vibrated in his fingertips. 

Those strange eyes gazed at him; a fierce unfathomable black at odds with the beguiling warmth of gold. 

Todd tightened his grip around John’s waist. “We are _hive_ , John Sheppard.”

*************

Carson’s heart was practically bursting. Everything was working out just perfectly; the decorations, the food, his mum’s Christmas jumpers, and the little ginger kitten who was currently making Rodney chase her all over the East pier.

He looked back at the central tower balcony to check that, _yes_ , they were still there; wrapped around each other and making the most of a brief window of privacy. Carson chuckled to himself. 

“What’s so funny?” Rodney had wrestled Princess back into his jumper and made his way over. 

“Just thinking about family.” Carson took Rodney’s hand and they wandered back along the pier. “Ours, to be precise, now that we have this wee one.” 

Rodney stopped their stroll and smiled shyly. “The Beckett-McKays.”

“Beckett-McKays, eh? Not McKay-Becketts?” 

“Well, it’s alphabetical and logical and it’s phonetically appealing and - oh to hell with it.” Rodney grinned and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, Carson.”

“Merry Christmas, Rodney,” Carson whispered in his ear as he drew Rodney in for a kiss. 

A grumpy yowl sounded from between them. Rodney laughed. “We have our own little hive, complete with the galaxy’s smallest queen.”

Carson glanced up at the infatuated figures on the balcony and smiled softly. “The gift of hive.”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, everyone!
> 
> xx


End file.
